The Last Dance
by KatieAnn179
Summary: NCIS/JAG CROSSOVER - AJ Chegwidden 'borrows' Ziva David for an evening at the White House. Despite his planning, nothing goes right and a broken shoe strap and an unwelcome face from the past cause problems!
1. Chapter 1

_**MONDAY MORNING – JAG HQ**_

"I thought Marines never backed off from anything" said Harm.

"We don't." Mac replied quickly. "But going into the Admiral's office and telling him he has lipstick on his earlobe isn't a problem Harm, it's a suicide mission."

_**NCIS – THE PREVIOUS FRIDAY AFTERNOON**_

It had all started innocently enough. Admiral Albert Jethro (AJ) Chegwidden was attending a function at the White House and needed an escort. Now, being an unmarried male in Washington was one thing, but to add to the spice was the fact that he's over 6ft tall, has a devilish smile, gorgeous brown eyes, oozes sex appeal and looks spectacular in uniform. And none of his current "friends" would fit the bill for this so-called 'date'. What he needed was someone who was well-versed in the intricacies of dancing, politics and self-defence. He'd serious thought about asking Mac to accompany him, but when he'd casually thrown this forthcoming event into the conversation she expertly steered the subject in another direction. Clayton Webb would definitely be there and after their recent bust-up, the White House wasn't the place for a rematch.

And, that's why today AJ Chegwidden is paying a visit to NCIS. He wants to 'borrow' Ziva. A Mossad-trained assassin who's multi-lingual and adept at handling herself in tight situations is just what he needs. He's pretty sure that Director Vance will see things his way. Of course, Gibbs might be problematic but AJ is sure that he can persuade him round to _his_ way of thinking. Naturally, Ziva will do as she's told. He's read her file from cover to cover and while it's not thick, it does contain a lot of information. "Yep", he thinks, "she's the girl to help me get to Ardilles".

His Escalade draws up to the NCIS security barrier and he shows his JAG ID. After a brief call from the gate to the Director's office he's passed through and parks in the visitor's section. He gets out and walks smartly into the building, where he meets Cynthia at the elevator. She takes him inside and they're whisked to Vance's floor.

A bored Tony is idly staring up towards MTAC when Cynthia comes into his line of sight. He sits up further when he sees the 2 Star Admiral walking beside her. It takes him all of 5 seconds to process _who_ the Admiral is. With a quiet "Gibbs" he catches his boss's attention and nods in the direction of the gallery. Gibbs looks up, sees the two people and his eyebrows raise. He flicks back to Tony and shrugs his shoulders. "Probably just playing a courtesy visit to the new guy" he says and starts re-reading the cold case file.

Ziva hears the exchange, checks out the people and then returns to her file. The Admiral is unknown to her but she quietly files his face away for future reference. The Bishop case has her undivided attention for the time being.

Gibbs's phone rings. He listens for a moment, murmurs a brief assent and hangs up. "David, with me."

Ziva gets up and follows Gibbs, making a face at Tony as she passes. Tim is also a little confused. Why does the Director need to see Gibbs? What's Ziva got to do with it? Why aren't they all in on the briefing? Tim returns to the job in hand – replacing the sound card in his computer – wondering if anybody will tell any of them anything, but secretly hoping that this weekend will be work-free. He's almost at the end of his new book and 2 days of peace should see it finished. Providing, of course, Gibbs, Ziva and Vance co-operate.

A few minutes later Tim's hopes are dashed as an irate Gibbs takes the stairs 2 at a time, grabs his jacket and heads for the lifts. He's definitely off on a coffee run, he's definitely not happy, and Tim and Tony look at each other. Ziva storms downstairs, throws herself into a chair, and starts to mutter in a mixture of languages. Neither man is aware of what she's saying but both instinctively know it's not good. A few words in Spanish are easily translated by Tony – and they're not polite. He mouths "Abby" towards Tim and they both rise and go to the stairs, that way avoiding the possibility of running into Gibbs on the return. Neither of them look back and see Vance and AJ stand on the Gallery and watch the scene unfold. And neither of them hear the rapid, rude Hebrew spouted forth by their incandescent workmate.

"Going to be difficult AJ" says Vance. "Ziva's English isn't top-notch, she's mad at being ordered to attend a party with you, Gibbs is unhappy that you're not sharing the intel, and the rest of the team are in the firing line".

Drawing himself up to his full 6ft 3ins height AJ looks Vance in the eye and says "I don't need Ziva's English to be top-notch; as long as her French, Spanish and Italian are ok that's all I need. If Gibbs is unhappy with the way I'm running things then tough. He'll take orders from _you_, and the same will go for his team. And, judging by the way Ziva's ranting on down there, I've picked the right one. No-one in my office has the requisite language skills, her firearms certification went through fine last week, she can handle herself in awkward situations and she's highly presentable. That's all I need. Someone who'll pass muster."

Vance raises an eyebrow: "AJ, she's got to be 20 years your junior …." His words are cut off by an impatient grunt from the Admiral.

"I'm not asking her to marry me. I just need to take her to a party; get Ardilles interested, then steal his keycard and get out. We'll be there at 8 and if it all goes to plan, she'll be home by midnight. End of story". AJ clamped his cover on his head, spun around and headed for the stairs. He blew past a still-swearing Ziva, nodded at Gibbs who just exited the elevator and took the next car down to the exit and his Escalade.

AJ is a man of action, a man who plans thoroughly. He's erudite, clever, and meticulous; he leaves nothing to chance and plans for as many contingencies as he can think of. However, this time his planning, action and foresight will come to nothing when he's thwarted by a broken shoe strap, and an unwelcome face from the past.


	2. Chapter 2

_**FRIDAY EVENING – ZIVA'S APARTMENT**_

Ziva was mad. She was blinding mad, with a healthy dollop of resentment and whipped cream on top. How _dare_ Vance order her to attend a party on a weekend … especially on a weekend when she was supposed to be _not working_? Now, that 2 day break was ruined, all her plans were in pieces and she'd have to turn up to a White House party, make small talk and distract some Argentinean/Chilean/Columbian/Brazilian _someone_ while her "date" stole a valuable piece of _plastic_! Ziva's temper racked up another notch. Wasting a good day on planning crap like this was stupid. All she needed was an address and she'd be in and out of his apartment in minutes without being seen. She'd done jobs like that dozens of times before when she was in Israel. America wouldn't be _that_ different. Ok, so there was more than minimum security, but she could do it. However, the Director and Admiral had ganged up on her, Gibbs had reluctantly agreed and now here she was, cursing them all for the stupid idiots they were while skimming through her wardrobe looking for something to wear. Evening wear was in short supply; she had nothing suitable for a formal party at the White House – every dress was either micro-short or cocktail length; and, groaning inwardly, Ziva realised that tomorrow, bright and early, she'd have to go shopping for a gown. She hated shopping in person. On line was not only more convenient it was quicker. She hated the false smiles, flatter and over-eager attentions of the sales assistants. She preferred to browse in peace; try on clothes in privacy and pay for her purchases quickly. There was no time for social chit-chat, coffee breaks, or idle browsing. Shopping was done like a military operation – pre-planned and surgical in its precision. She groaned even louder when she realised that a new dress also meant new shoes – again, there was nothing suitable in her wardrobe. Her fluent cursing in Hebrew was interspersed with snippets of Italian, French, Spanish and Arabic.

**FRIDAY EVENING – AJ'S APARTMENT**

AJ sat in his armchair in the den nursing a glass of good whisky. He was feeling slightly guilty about today. He knew he'd ruined Officer David's weekend plans and he regretted that; but Ardilles was a man he _had_ to get, and David was just the bait he needed. Ardilles was Columbian, a banker for a couple of high-level drug lords with connections to the government. He was a dye-in-the-wool crook; charming, suave, sophisticated and sociopathic to boot. He himself was responsible for the deaths of more than a dozen people; their images never haunted him at night because he never gave them a second thought. But, he had one weakness – beautiful women - especially _younger_ beautiful women who were educated, well spoken and completely submissive to him. "Well", mused AJ, "two out of three's not bad, and I'm sure if the need arises Ziva can fake the last bit". His hand stretched towards the telephone but after a few seconds drew it back again. Then, inexplicable, it shot forward again grabbed the receiver and his fingers punched the Mossad officer's number.

"David" snapped the voice at the end of the line.

"Ziva? It's Admiral Chegwidden here. I just need to clarify a few points about tomorrow …"

There was silence at the other end. AJ could hear Ziva breathing and could _feel_ the waves of anger rolling down the line towards him. That set him off and he shifted into attack mode.

"I will collect you at 1845 hours. My driver will drop us at the White House at 1915 and we'll be escorted to the Ballroom. Dinner will be served at 2000 hours promptly and there will be dancing afterwards ….

Ziva's own battle mode engaged and she interrupted him by saying something in Hebrew he didn't understand.

"Admiral. You call me to give me a running order for tomorrow night? An order that has not changed one iota since you gave it to me at NCIS this afternoon?" She is aware that her voice has risen in pitch and volume, but she's too carried away to concern herself with what this tirade is going to ultimately cost. "I am not stupid. I am perfectly aware of the standing orders you have given, and perfectly aware that the Director of NCIS and my direct boss have acquiesced to your request. I will be ready to see you tomorrow at 1845 as ordered." Without further comment Ziva hung up, then for good measure picked up the phone and hurled it across the room.

AJ Chegwidden stared at the receiver in his hand and heard the soft burr of the hang-up tone. He quietly replaced the receiver and stood up. His first instinct is to grab his keys, get in his car, go over to her apartment and bawl at her until he's hoarse from the effort. But, spying the Glenmorangie bottle on the table he contents himself with the thought of top-up and returns to his armchair. "Tomorrow will be crap" he thinks to himself "so, no need for tonight to be the same." Dropping a healthy slug of the whisky into his glass he sits back down, picks up the Navy Times and starts to read.

**SATURDAY MORNING**

Ziva is at the Mall of America before it opens. She's sitting impatiently in her car, running through a list of what she has to buy when there is a knock at the window. Looking up she sees the stony expression of one very pissed-off Admiral stare back at her. He motions her to lower the window and she gives a second's consideration to _not_ doing it, but seeing his eyebrows rise, she sighs deeply and winds the window down.

"Good morning Admiral Chegwidden."

"Ms David."

He stares and she stares. Neither wants to be the first to blink. He bends down and says quietly "Open the door" and nods at the passenger door. She shrugs, leans over and does as he requests. He gets in with difficulty. The Mini Cooper is not designed for a man of his height and she smirks at his obvious discomfort. When he finally has his limbs arranged he motions for her to raise the window, which she does.

"Is there something you want to say?" he asks with a dangerous softness she recognises from times gone by.

Her first reaction is to be flippant or cheeky, maybe even flirty or a little playful. But this isn't the man to try that approach with, not now. He's angry, very angry and he's trying to control himself.

"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?"

"I'm giving you a chance to say what's on your mind Ms David?"

"With no comeback? No "on the record"? No retribution?"

"If you wish"

"I note your answer isn't a definitive yes or no"

His response is a cold-eyed stare. Ziva turns her head and looks out the window, seeing the car park slowly fill as the clock ticks towards 9.00am. The store will be open soon and without further comment she reaches for the door handle, swings it forward and exits in one gracious movement. She opens the rear door, grabs her backpack and heads towards the Mall. AJ's trying to exit the car without landing flat on his face but it takes him a minute or two to catch the petite brunette up. The effort of getting out of the car, combined with his hair-trigger temper has brought him to boiling point and he reaches forward and grabs Ziva's arm roughly. Instinct takes over and she drives her elbow into his gut and steps back slightly to follow up when she realises two things - first, her 'assailant' hasn't dropped towards the floor and second, he's seen the knife materialise in her hand. She quickly puts the knife out of sight and breaking eye contact practically bolts towards the department store. AJ rubs his ribs, and slowly follows her. As he opens the doors to the Mall he lets a rueful smile slip across his face – he didn't realise she had a concealed knife. Damn, she's good.

BAILEY'S DEPARTMENT STORE, MALL OF AMERICA

Ziva's face is burning as she jogs through the doors of the first open store. Quickly looking through the store directory she sees the sign for the Ladies Room and heads towards it. Thankfully, she's the only one there and she enters a cubicle, locks the door and sits down. Her brain is in overdrive, taught nerves are rapidly fraying and she's caught between laughter and tears. She can't believe she's just pulled a knife on the_ Judge Advocate General_! What the hell is she thinking of? Breathing deeply she tries to calm her overactive brain and thumping heart. The day has not got off to a good start and she needs to complete her shopping in record time, get back to the apartment and organise herself. She stands up, unlocks the door and exits the Ladies Room. She's scanning the store directory when she becomes aware of a presence beside her. Looking up she gazes into familiar brown eyes – but eyes that are definitely more amused than the last time they watched her.

"Third floor for Ladies Evening Wear" is all he says, pointing to the entry on the directory.

Ziva nods and heads towards the elevator, AJ closely on her heels.

"I can shop for myself Admiral, I don't need an escort."

"I'm sure you can. And you'd better call me AJ – we are _supposed_ to be a couple." His eyes are facing forward, but Ziva can see the pulse beating in his neck, and it's beating a little faster than earlier.

Suddenly, she relaxes. The ridiculousness of the situation hits her and she tries ineffectually to smother a grin; but the grin spreads into a full smile and she starts to giggle. AJ looks down at her, wondering what the hell's come over her but is a little grateful that at least she's laughing. The elevator doors open and a laughing Ziva and bewildered AJ exit. It takes her a couple of seconds to get herself under control and she turns to face him.

"AJ. If our 'date' is a success tonight I want _you_ to undertake a mission with _me_. I have had to postpone a very important event today to do this. I want your guarantee that you will come with me tomorrow. I'm not going to tell you what we're doing but you must wear comfortable old clothes, not mind getting dirty, and be prepared to sing. If you say yes, then I will go over there (she waves in the direction of racks of evening dresses) and get something suitable for tonight. Do we have a deal?"

AJ ponders for a few minutes. Old clothes, dirty and _singing_? No-one in their right mind would want to hear him sing. He looks down at his Mossad assassin 'girlfriend' and nods his assent. Ziva smiles, turns and heads for the dresses. AJ, pretty sure he's been had big time, drags himself along behind her. Why does he suddenly feel that a behind-enemy-lines SEaL mission would be a welcome alternative to what Ziva has planned?

She's quickly flicking through a rack of black dresses and a sales assistant has zeroed in on her. Eyeing her up expertly the assistant announces "size 6" and directs to other racks. It takes her about 3 minutes to locate what she's after. AJ stands watching this and the assistant, trying to be helpful says "How lovely dear. Your Father's here to help you choose! Most men run a mile from this Department."

Looking at AJ's now-scowling face she replies sweetly "Oh, he's not my Father. But he does _so_ love it when I call him Daddy." And leaving the sales assistant and speechless AJ behind she trips lightly across to the changing room. At the door she turns and blows a now-blushing AJ a kiss and follows it up with a cheeky bum-wiggle and the sales assistant and 2 Star Admiral can hear the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from the changing room.

The dress is purchased quickly. AJ tried to get a look at it but the best he can see is it's a dull green colour – actually, "Marine Green" flashes through is mind – then Ziva takes off heading for the shoe department. Again, she spots what she wants, tries them on, buys them and the matching bag and heads towards the exit. He can't believe it! A woman who shops at light-speed and doesn't spend hours 'just looking'. His estimation of her rises a couple of notches.

Across the other side of the store another brunette has exited a changing room and is startled by the familiar male face she sees. She's about to call his name when she sees his hand gently drop onto the shoulder of the female beside him – a female who turns her face towards his and half-smiles - and Meredith Cavanaugh's stomach twists into a tight knot.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sorry the update's been so long in coming. Computer problems, a flooded bathroom and miscellaneous family woes have meant that getting online at home is impossible and can only be done (sneakily!) at work.**_

_**SATURDAY EVENING – ZIVA'S APARTMENT**_

It's 1840 and Ziva is dressed and ready. There is a sharp knock on the door and she opens it ready to admit – whoa! Her eyes take in the toes of his shiny shoes and start heading north and there is nothing, absolutely nothing that looks as good at what she's seeing right now. Finally, she makes it to his face. His mouth is set in a quirky smile and one eyebrow is raised in amusement. "Pass muster?" is all he says. She responds with a simple nod – speech is too complicated to deal with while her brain is in a fog and the word "sexy" is emblazoned in her mind. This is one seriously gorgeous man and … Trying desperately hard to reign in her overactive hormones, Ziva steps through the door and locks it behind her. AJ's eyes flick over her and he's a bit disappointed. Her hair is pinned up with tendrils left free at the side of her face; one of those 'done this in a hurry' up-dos that actually takes a couple of hours to pull off. She's wearing an all-covering grey coat over her evening dress, and all he can see is a small part of the chiffon train of her dress, a dull gold coloured bag and high-heeled sandals. But, he thinks to himself, this isn't a fashion parade and it's not as if it's a real date, is it?

The elevator ride to the car park is silent and AJ's driver opens the rear door of the official car. Ziva slips in and moves over, AJ joins her quickly and they head towards the White House.

It's small talk in the car. AJ knows Ziva's father heads up Mossad, but also knows their relationship is difficult to say the least. So they chat about Eilat. Ziva's been there on holiday quite a few times and AJ took his daughter there on a diving trip last year. They move on to Italy and Ziva's love of cooking – a passion she discovers AJ shares. The time passes pleasantly enough and soon they are joining the queue of cars at the White House itself. "Ever been here?" asks AJ. "Just as a tourist" is Ziva's response. "I came last year – saw the White House, Capitol Building – just so that I could put the politics into perspective. Although the buildings are the outward sign of Government and its Leader, I wanted to see if I could _find_ the personalities inside them."

"Any luck?"

"Yes and no. The White House is the culmination of America's moving culture. I daresay the personal quarters would give a better insight into President Hayes; but naturally that part is off limits. The Capitol Building was just as I expected. You can feel the power there. It was very impressive, but very close to the American people. It means a lot, being able to go in and see where the power is. I thoroughly enjoyed it."

"Well, tonight will be different. It'll all be small talk and people on their best behaviour. We all say lots and give nothing away."

She smiles "That's very cynical".

"Definitely" is his response "but then I've had years of rubber chicken dinners and two-faced people talking in double-speak. You're new to American politics and it'll seem interesting. I'm just getting too old for this."

The car stops and AJ's driver gets out to open the rear door. He exits the car and holds his hand out to assist Ziva. Normally, she'd have hopped out unaided, but in a long coat and high heels (as well as an audience waiting to enter the White House itself) she gratefully takes the proffered hand and exits the vehicle. She slips her arm quite naturally through his and they join the queue.

Standing several rows behind them is Meredith Cavanaugh and her companion. Meredith pays little attention to what _he_ is saying as right now, her concentration is firmly fixed on the tall balding figure in Naval evening uniform ahead of her. He's speaking quietly and pointing out various things around the perimeter of the entrance – and she's unhappy to note he's with the pretty brunette from the store. The queue crawls slowly forward and AJ and Ziva enter the building.

Walking up a flight of stairs, they head for the cloakroom. Ziva excuses herself and heads towards the Ladies Room as AJ drops off his cover. He stands in a throng of people waiting on his 'date' to reappear. A second later, an arm snakes around his waist and a gentle kiss is placed just below his jaw. He's startled by Ziva's forward behaviour and, turning, is about to hiss a disapproving comment when he looks straight into the eyes of his former fiancée, Meredith Cavanaugh.

"Isn't this a coincidence" she purrs. "Imagine meeting you here of all places. It's _so_ lovely to see you again." She squeezes his waist gently. Flinty eyes stare down at hers, eyes that remember his love and her betrayal. His posture is rigid and he removes her arm from around him. The air has turned frosty and suddenly he wants to be anywhere but there. Meredith's smile hasn't wavered and she keeps prattling on, rambling about Florence, her split with Alessandro ("totally unfaithful – I was a fool") and her newest companion ("works at the State Department, comes to these things all the time.) But AJ's not listening. He's desperately looking around for a way out. He needs to get away from this boa constrictor before he dies here. Suddenly, behind him, a soft voice says: "AJ? I leave you for 3 minutes and you find a new companion! I _am_ disappointed!" Meredith spins round and is confronted by Ziva's smiling face. She holds out her hand and says: "Hello, I am Ziva David." Meredith takes her hand, shakes it briefly and mutters her name. Ziva takes a pace forward, slips her hand into AJ's and, unobserved by Meredith, gently taps 2 fingers on the underside of his wrist. AJ understands immediately – her signal says "follow my lead". Ziva smiles widely and looks into Meredith's eyes. She starts a neutral conversation, but keeps a firm hold of AJ's hand, and uses the other to brush fingers down his arm or remove imagined fluff from his uniform jacket. Within 5 minutes the conversation has ground to a halt and Meredith realising she's been beaten leans in to proffer a cheek to AJ. Ziva raises her eyebrows at this sign of "poaching" and Meredith backs off. She mutters a muffled "Goodbye AJ", spins on her heel and goes to find her companion. Ziva watches her retreat and a satisfied smirk appears on her face. AJ looks down at Ziva, and then at his hand holding hers and a grin slips across his face. "Didn't know you knew SeAL hand signals" is his comment. "It must be universal" is her response "We use the same one at Mossad". Just then dinner is announced and she grins up at him and says "Rubber chicken for dinner? That's one recipe I _must_ avoid!"

They chat amiably and he fully takes in the gown she's wearing. It's simple in design – green in colour; halter necked with a décolletage that's not too revealing. The high-heeled footwear bring her up to just past his shoulder, and her jewellery is of plain gold. Small hoop earrings, a chain with a flat triangular pendant and two bangles on her left wrist. The dress colour is extremely becoming to her skin; and shows up the copper and gold tones in her hair. They wander into the dining room and AJ notices that many men and quite a few women turn to look at Ziva after she's passed them. "Well" he thinks to himself "she is pretty. They probably think I've brought my daughter or I'm cradle-snatching." His assumption is wrong, as he finds out a second later when he indicates Ziva should precede him to their table. His jaw almost hits the floor and an audible "Oh my God!" is heard as he realises the dress she is wearing shows off a toned, tanned back that is completely nude past her waist. The rear of the dress is extremely low – dipping down and ending just two inches above her bottom. Ziva looks over her shoulder at him and winks suggestively – all he can do in response is to stare, and keep on staring. A sudden nudge behind him brings him into the present and he steps forward, out of the way of more diners. Eyes swivel right to take in the superb sight of his date and he … who mentioned the word "date"? She's not my date, she's an NCIS agent and my current … AJ's mind is having trouble processing speech, thought or action and Ziva turns to him and whispers three words in his ear. The Admiral blushes to the tips of his ears and looks down into liquid brown eyes that are smiling with mischief. Then she seats herself and pats the chair beside her.

He did hear those words, didn't he? He's not mistaken? She did actually say "low-rise thong" quietly to him??

He looks sideways at her and she's smiling triumphantly to herself. And, he can't resist it … he just can't. He leans across and murmurs in her ear. Her mouth pops open in surprise, and then she throws back her head and laughs out loud. Within seconds she's clutching her sides and trying desperately to regain control as AJ's laughter joins hers.

Across the room Meredith Cavanaugh quietly seethes as her prey slips his arm around his companion. What can have caused such a belly-laugh from the normally quiet and reserved AJ? Her eyebrows rise when she sees Ziva turn to AJ and place a delicate kiss on his cheek. Meredith's date interrupts her train of thought and reluctantly, very reluctantly she turns her attention to him. She sneaks a peek and her gut twists even further when she realises AJ's leaned into Ziva and is whispering in her ear. His hand is resting on the small of her back, her face is turned towards him and something he says has her grinning. Meredith pours her concentration onto the plate in front of her. She picks up her fork and violently stabs at the chicken.

Ziva and AJ eventually compose themselves and start the introductions around the table. On the other side of AJ is a pneumatic blonde wearing too much makeup and designer Gucci. Her husband, a Banker from New York, sits on her right. On Ziva's left is Ardilles – whose eyes have taken in the brunette's face, figure, jewellery and gown. His girlfriend, a brunette in designer Prada who looks about 20, sits quietly just listening to the conversations. There are a couple of State Department officials and their wives and also Clayton Webb with a redhead in tow. AJ's eyes flash when Webb plonks himself down and leaves his date struggling with her chair. Webb pales when he realises who is sitting opposite him, and he practically stutters his name in introduction when he realises Ardilles is also at the table. He suddenly wishes he was home – eating a tv dinner and watching the Lakers match. He also vaguely recognises Ziva and it suddenly comes to him that a former SeAL has brought a Mossad operative to dinner at the White House! Webb's interest is piqued and, rudely ignoring his date, he stares at Ziva. She stares back, but then opens her bag slips out a small pad and pencil and scribbles a note. Signalling to a passing drinks waiter she presses the note discreetly into his hand and, after he tops up the various wine glasses on the table, slips the note to Webb. AJ is intrigued by this, but also a little annoyed – after all she did come to the dinner with _him_. Webb smirks at AJ but the smirk slowly disappears when he reads the note from Ziva:

"If you do not stop staring at my cleavage, I shall stab you in the eye with my fork. And leave the rest of you for the Admiral to deal with."

He looks up at the pretty brunette who has captivated the table with her mispronounced English and charming ways and hits guts turn to liquid. This is one woman who can do what she says she can, and she will, especially if she catches him staring at her breasts again. Ziva grins and raises her glass in a salute to Webb. AJ raises an eyebrow and Ziva leans forward and whispers the story into his ear. A large, wicked smile spreads across AJ's face and he too grins at Webb. Suddenly, Webb realises what it feels like to be a dolphin surrounded by patrolling killer whales … and he hastily grabs his wineglass and downs the contents in one fast gulp.


	4. Chapter 4

_**DINNER AT THE WHITE HOUSE**_

As predicted, the chicken was like rubber. However, the indifferent meal was more than made up for by the excellent company. Ziva sat back in her chair and watched as the various couples around the table swapped stories and experiences. It was all very amiable; so amiable in fact, she could almost lose sight of the mission. She smiled quietly at Ardilles. So far, he'd paid little attention to her, or his date – he seemed more interested in listening to AJ and Webb. AJ had little patience with the CIA spook and quite frankly, Webb was intimidated. He wasn't a man who frightened easily but AJ's temper was well known around the Hill and those who knew also knew it wasn't wise to tangle with him. Despite the 50 years, he was still extremely fit and his right hook was legendary.

Ziva was taken by surprise when Ardilles suddenly asked her about Israel. She got the distinct impression that he was testing her, so when he commented unfavourably on the latest tension in the area, rather than rising to the obvious bait, Ziva batted his comments off with a standard reply. Although Eli David was Head of Mossad, and she was a trained agent, politics were ingrained in her – but, luckily, stupidity wasn't. She knew that voicing an opinion, especially in the White House itself, could cause serious problems, so she demurred with a standard response of wishing for peace in her lifetime. Whether it would be an achievable peace was not up to her. Ardilles settled back in his chair and took stock of the woman sitting next to him. There were various points in her favour that attracted him – she was beautiful, she dressed well, she switched easily from one language to another and he was captivated by her charming mis-pronunciations, her manners were flawless and she seemed to be a good listener. AJ and Ziva decided to keep things simple – if asked they'd tell the truth about their work; well, they'd tell _most_ of it. So, when Ardilles did ask, Ziva was ready:

"I work for NCIS – Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We deal with problems regarding Navy and Marine Corps personnel. AJ is the JAG – that's the Judge Advocate General. So, I suppose you could say that I arrest the bad guys, and AJ prosecutes them."

There was a murmur of appreciation around the table and Ziva's stock, already riding high, rose a little higher. AJ smiled briefly into his wine glass. She'd summed up their careers in barely two sentences and was accurate. His instinct about Ziva was right – she was exactly the person he needed for this job, and he wouldn't mind seeing her again, outwith the office. However, he ruefully thought that she'd have men lining up to take her out. A 50 year old Admiral wouldn't be high on her priority list. Sighing quietly he put his wine glass down as the orchestra struck up the first dance of the night.

Two of the couples excused themselves and got up to dance; Webb stared morosely at his wineglass and ignored the attempts of his lady friend to entice him to the dancefloor. He hadn't wanted to come here, but Ardilles was a target and getting close to him was a priority. His eyes flicked towards Ardilles and his partner – maybe _she_ could be persuaded to talk. Without further ado, he rose, walked round the table and asked her to dance. Webb's partner stared at him as he moved the chair back and escorted his partner to the floor. Ziva glanced at AJ and then nodded in the direction of Webb's date. He took the hint and asked her to dance and she accepted. AJ led Sally to the floor and that left Ardilles and Ziva alone at the table.

He swirled the remnants of his wine in the glass and watched his prey from under heavy lids. Finding out she was a federal agent has surprised him, but he was also intrigued. His current squeeze, Elizabeth, was barely out of her teens and although pretty, was neither a witty conversationalist nor varied enough in bed for his tastes. She was merely there tonight until he could find someone more … amenable to his needs and he felt that Ziva would fit the bill. Despite being escorted by a two-star Admiral, Ardilles had designs on her. Well, actually, all he had designs on was getting her into bed. Conversation was felt to be the appetiser, but sex was definitely the main course as far as he was concerned and when he looked again at Ziva his libido kicked up a notch. A Federal agent, used to taking orders, used to carrying a gun, used to being in charge - he couldn't resist. He wanted to take that agent and break her down, make her compliant and subservient, she'd bend to his will, do as he pleased – and thank him for it in the morning. It never crossed his mind that Ziva would be anything less than co-operative; his psyche was not hot-wired that way. He got what he wanted – always. There was never any doubt about it, at least in his mind. Elizabeth knew the rules – always be available, do as you're told, look good – and after he was finished with her, she'd go back to her University with a new car, a fat cheque and collection of designer clothes. However, if she said "no", if she didn't please him, if she rebelled or pouted or played the spoiled brat – he'd break her neck and dump her body where it couldn't be found. It wasn't the first time he'd done it – it probably wouldn't be the last. And, looking at Ziva once again, he certainly hoped it wouldn't be how _this_ relationship ended.

He leaned towards her and quietly asked her to dance.

Nodding a quiet acceptance, she stood and walked ahead of him to the dance floor. In heels she was of equal height, and as she placed her hand on his shoulder, she felt the solid muscle under the well-cut tuxedo. His hands were soft with well-manicured nails; the tuxedo undoubtedly expensive and beautifully cut and his shirt was silk. As the band softly swung into Glen Miller's "Moonlight Seranade" Ziva remembered exactly _why_ she was here and smiled at her companion. Now, to get the keycard out of his pocket and to AJ. She hoped this bit was as well-planned as he said. AJ deftly moved Sally towards Ardilles's back and deliberately had her bump him. Letting go of Ziva, all 4 people stumbled out apologies and, luckily, some still seated guests just thought another dance floor crash had occurred. No-one noticed Ziva's hand slip inside Ardilles's jacket and check for his wallet; they never noticed it being removed either. As the 4 dancers stood together making small talk about the silly accident no-one noticed Ziva slip a wallet into AJ's trouser pocket. The partners then resumed their dancing, each moving away to the opposite side of the busy floor.

Ardilles was a good dancer; indeed, thought Ziva, he was excellent. He was oddly attractive – dark hair swept back off his forehead, olive-toned skin, and the most amazing blue eyes. He was undoubtedly fit – the well-muscled shoulders and strong legs indicated his workout routine was frequent and rigorous. But, she also noticed something else. In front of each ear were small scars which indicated facial surgery. He'd had a facelift. And, every time they danced past the glazed doors or a mirror he looked at his reflection. "Vain should also be added to the profile", thought Ziva, "he really can't resist his own image," She revised her opinion of him – attractive, but a definite non-starter.

The music ended and the couples began to drift back to their tables. Ziva chatted amiably to Ardilles and wasn't aware she was now being watched from the edge of the dance floor. Meredith Cavanagh had witnessed the little scene. She'd noted how friendly and relaxed both AJ and Ziva were; relaxed enough for him to allow his date to dance with someone else. Alessandro's face briefly appeared in front of her eyes, and she bowed her head before anyone could see the tears. Damn, that man had hurt _her_. Finding him in bed with one of his students was more than she could stand. She raised her eyes at the same time as AJ looked in her direction and their eyes met. Suddenly she realised what she'd done - betraying AJ was foolish. He'd loved her with all his heart and she'd treated him appallingly. Staring across the room she mouthed the words "I am so sorry" towards him. AJ's shoulders tensed and, still staring at Meredith, he dropped his hand possessively onto Ziva's waist as a bitter smile escaped his lips. This quick gesture spoke loudly to Meredith – AJ was not available – but her predatory nature would just not let this go. As Ziva leaned back into AJ's embrace, Meredith downed the remnants of her wine and called on the nearest waiter for a refill.


End file.
